


BokuAka Week 2016

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, BokuAka Week, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven fills for Bokuaka Week including dating sites, model!Akaashi and photographer Bokuto!, post-canon events, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jealousy

Akaashi hated dating sites. Kuroo had known that, yet he had insisted on bringing those damn things up when he’d been over to raid their kitchen for sugar. He’d talked about how Akaashi looked like he needed a good lay, how Bokuto should get some company so that Akaashi didn’t tire of his seemingly endless energy. 

He’d nearly hit Kuroo over the head with a skillet, and the man had backed out with a grin all too cunning to be good. And then that had led Bokuto on a ramble about the benefits of those cursed sites. But Akaashi didn’t listen, didn’t want too. They had too many questions, too many questionable people on them - not that it was any better than scouring bars or hoping for hookups at cafés, and too little drive. 

But, mostly, he hated them because he found them useless. He didn’t need a dating site to get the person of his dreams. That person already lived with him, already occupied a place on his couch and his heart. And that person had his eyes firmly fixed on his laptop’s screen as he clicked and typed away. _ I need a miracle. _

“What are you doing?” Akaashi drawled after a few minutes, too distracted to even consider focusing on the stupid crime show that  _ Bokuto _ had turned on, which he had almost instantly started to ignore. 

Bokuto flashed that smile at him - the one that made his insides twist and his heart thump a little faster.  _ I hate this _ . It was so innocent, so unknowing, and he wished it would change. But Bokuto was an oblivious little shit, and it wasn’t like Akaashi was particularly good with his words. Not that it mattered in the long run.  _ I’ll move on eventually _ . 

But, for just a little longer, he wanted to stare at Bokuto, who was so absorbed in his task that he hadn’t even heard Akaashi. His golden eyes were narrowed with concentration and his tongue poked out slightly. He tapped the keyboard for a moment before he sighed and dropped his head back. Long arms thick with muscle stretched up over his head and for a brief moment his shirt rose up to reveal a toned stomach that made Akaashi swallow hard, even as he cursed himself. 

All of those things were anything but new to him. He’d seen them in high school - and those sights had been the caught of more than a few wet dreams and miserable minutes curled in on himself as he jacked off to the thought of his best friend and captain. He’d seen those lean muscles and those cocky grins and those beautiful eyes in college too. There had been more than enough glimpses of Bokuto as he stepped out of the shower, rivulets of water rolling down his chest and face, hair plastered down. And yet Akaashi couldn’t get enough.  _ It’s so frustrating _ . “Bo-” 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto beamed at him as he spun his laptop around, and something in the man’s chest broke a little as he scanned the screen. Simple cream borders, pink and red hearts. Simple yet elegant text. A profile with Bokuto’s picture and cute, excited little comments beneath. “I joined a dating site! I thought Kuroo had a point!” 

He wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to get words out, his throat was so thick, and he nodded as Bokuto beamed at him, eyes wide with excitement. “That’s… great, Bokuto.” 

His friend’s grin only stretched wider as he settled back into his spot. He looked so pleased, so content. Akaashi wanted to scream, to rip on his hair, to flip a table.  _ Look right here _ . But instead he kept it all firmly locked away. Kept his face blank and neutral as he fixed his eyes on the television. He had no interest for it, all of that long gone. But it was better than looking at Bokuto because he was fairly certain he’d throw up if he did.

* * *

 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sang as he sailed into Akaashi’s bedroom two days later. He didn’t bother to look up from his computer, though his fingers did still on the keys. First mistake. “Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi,” Bokuto chanted as he bounced beside the bed before he pounced on it, hard and heavy enough that it jostled Akaashi, and he looked up with a scowl. 

Those had come easier, much to his disgust. He hated to look at Bokuto like that, like he  _ hated _ him, but he was too frustrated and irritated to even try to fix something neutral onto his face. But, as he looked at Bokuto - second mistake - the man didn’t even seem to wilt beneath his stormy expression. Instead he only glowed brighter, too vibrant for the melancholy atmosphere in the room and the frustrations that Akaashi had shrouded himself with. “What do you want?” 

Bokuto’s teeth flashed as he peered up at Akaashi from where he’d sprawled himself. “Someone chatted me! Well, actually, a couple people have. Like, thirteen or fourteen maybe? I’m not sure! But this one is really nice! He said he liked my hair, and he wanted to know how much gel I use!” 

“That’s great.” The words were snapped out, whip cracks for syllables, and Akaashi internally winced as Bokuto wilted a little. His fingers spasmed, but he couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make that happen. Because Bokuto wanted to meet someone and Akaashi’s feelings had been ripped open and scattered, and he couldn’t breathe it hurt so much. He pressed a hand to his head and sighed. It was hard enough to stomach all his feelings, but when Bokuto went from being higher than a kite to pouting and distressed, it was so much worse. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to bed. Tell me more about it tomorrow?” 

“Okay,” Bokuto murmured, heart-breakingly subdued. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

His friend slid off the bed, slunk out the door, and turned the light off behind him. “Shit…” Akaashi rasped to himself as he dug his nails into his forehead.  _ Stop. It’s not your fault he doesn’t love you like you love him. Suck it up and be happy for him _ . It’d feel like choking acid, but he knew he could do it. He’d done it a dozen times before.

* * *

 

“Akaashi.” 

“Hm?” 

“Look at me.” 

It had been a week since Bokuto had started his online dating. A week since Akaashi had been able to look him properly in the eye. Despite that, he’d managed to put up a good front. His mask of vague interest had been perfect, his responses had been as expected. He’d felt like he was getting sucker punched every five minutes, but that was a small price to pay for Bokuto’s happiness. Still, it sucked. But he looked up anyway. 

Bokuto was centimeters away from his face and Akaashi jerked back against the couch, startled. Golden eyes blinked owlishly as Akaashi pressed a hand over his face, but even that couldn’t hide the burn that stretched from neck to ears. “Fucking hell, Bokuto,” he stuttered out after a moment, “Learn about personal space.” 

“But Akaashi,” the silver-haired man groaned, “You’re usually okay with me doing that!” 

“No, I’m not. I just tolerate it.” 

That didn’t dim Bokuto’s bright energy though, and he beamed at Akaashi as he leaned even closer.  _ Why _ ? “Akaashi?” 

“ _ What _ , Bokuto?”  _ Get out of my space _ . Because if Bokuto leaned any closer there was no chance in hell that Akaashi wasn’t going to lunge at him and kiss him. He had self control, but not nearly enough, not yet. Bokuto seemed blissfully ignorant of it as he leaned even closer, so close that Akaashi could smell his cologne. 

“Akaashi, I realized something.” 

“What?” 

Something flickered in those liquid gold eyes and Akaashi cocked his head to the side, confused. Bokuto bit his lip, drew Akaashi’s eyes to it, and he had to force them away. Not that meeting Bokuto’s heavy stare was any better. “You know,” Bokuto breathed, and the softness of his voice made Akaashi shudder, “I’ve been looking for the perfect person online, but I don’t know why. I mean, the profile picture wouldn’t do him justice, and he’d put down all these short, plain answers because that’s how he is, when he’s really beautiful and interesting! He absolutely hates dating sites. I don’t think he’s ever used one. I probably shouldn’t have, because I really think I upset him and made him jealous and-” His teeth snapped shut with an audible click and Bokuto winced as he sank back and buried his face into his hands. 

What little Akaashi could see was blood red - just like he was. And he only grew hotter as the words sank in. The man didn’t think, just raised a leg and kicked Bokuto in the thigh. “Bokuto, you fucking  _ asshole _ .” 

He peeked out from behind his hands and flashed a wry grin at Akaashi, eyes full of apologies as he lunged over and grabbed Akaashi’s hands, clutched them tight. “I’m sorry Akaashi! Kuroo said it would be a good idea, and I didn’t really think it through! I’m really sorry! I-” 

_ Fuck it _ . Akaashi caught a fistful of Bokuto’s hair and hauled him in, crushed their mouths together. A little sound escaped Bokuto, and for a moment everything was still, and then Bokuto buried his hands into Akaashi’s hair and little nips punctuated the kiss as Akaashi dragged Bokuto closer and closer still. When they finally sagged apart, Akaashi thumped Bokuto again, this time in the side. “I swear to God, you have the worst fucking ideas.” 

Bokuto’s eyes scrunched up and he nodded, solemn. It didn’t last long though, because when he raised his head there was a tiny smile there. “At least I got to kiss you?” 

Akaashi smacked him again - even as he dragged him in for another kiss.


	2. Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Celebrity  
> Model!Akaashi and Photographer!Bokuto
> 
> HOLD YOUR HORSES BECAUSE I JUST GOT SOME AMAZING FANART BY KOZURNE-KENRA OVER ON TUMBLR GO LOOK AT IT AND BASK IN ALL OF ITS BEAUTY [HERE](http://kozurne-kenrna.tumblr.com/post/145867734386/so-i-read-one-of-fairylights101s-beautiful-fics)  
> I literally cannot believe how beautiful it is and just!!!! It's absolute perfection and exactly what I'd imagined. Give them so much love because they deserve it all.

Koutarou had seen dozens,  _ hundreds _ of beautiful individuals in his career. High cheekbones, soft lips, sharp eyes, chiseled jawlines, flat stomachs and thick or wiry muscles. He’d seen people as young as fifteen in the business and those in their seventies. His camera had captured people who had smiles who could light up the world, ones with smiles that masked endless stretches of pain, ones who had eyes that held all their mirth instead. So many personalities had come his way, and yet none had ever snared him like Keiji Akaashi. 

There was something about his movements, effortlessly graceful, feline and smooth. He caused ripples, nearly unnoticeable, and Koutarou found himself trapped in them from the moment his eyes landed on Keiji. Tight black curls that clung to his head in some places and poked out in the others, wild yet tamed at the same time. Cool gray eyes, sharp and unreadable, that flitted around and never lingered too long in any one place. Long, slender fingers - they looked like they were long enough to curl over Koutarou’s fingers, and  _ that _ had been an intimate thought that had made him flush and cough slightly as Keiji’s manager had droned on and on. 

His hands had been tough when they’d clasped hands after all the arrangements had been made, and Koutarou had simply grinned.  _ This shoot is going to be quite interesting _ . And he hadn’t been wrong. Not in the slightest. 

Their location was an abandoned building - it had been carefully scoped out and guards had been placed. It had been abandoned fairly recently, so what little mess there had been had been swept up, the boards on the windows had been removed, and the graffiti had been scrubbed away by a crew in the days leading up to it. The area outside had been cleaned and searched as well - they couldn’t be too careful, not with one of Japan’s top models. Koutarou fiddled with his equipment, his assistant hovering behind, as they waited, a guard nearby. Everything was ready: the little trailer they'd set up so Keiji could change; the equipment was set up; the props had been set out. And all they had to do was wait on Keiji. 

He could hear the chatter of the makeup crew, one voice peppy and excited, the other more subdued and cool, though they both snarked at each other. They were an amusing pair, Shoyo and Tobio, though Koutarou hadn't gotten much of a chance to converse with them both.  _ Perhaps later _ . When all the focus was off of the camera and Keiji, when he had a chance to relax and think about something other than the outfits the modelling agency had selected for Keiji - and the way that Keiji would look in them. It made his heart thump uncomfortably quickly, but he ignored it as he checked the lighting one last time and hummed, satisfied. 

Heels clicked against the ground and Koutarou glanced up, a smile on his lips. Keiji’s manager strode in, severe in his plain, dark gray suit and with his hair slicked back and a firm wet to his lips. “Mr. Bokuto, are you ready?” 

“Yes, everything is set.” He nodded and stepped out of the doorway. And then Keiji stepped in. 

His curly hair looked even fluffier than usual, and a tangle of white flowers and gold and red leaves circled his head in a slender band. Black lined his eyes and the soft orange on his eyelids made his gray eyes pop, framed perfectly by long lashes. The makeup on his face was minimal, just enough to accentuate the high cheekbones and fine planes of his face. Gold earrings dangled from his ears, tiny leaves and flowers studded up the rest of the way. 

All of that was enough to make Koutarou’s mouth go dry - and then his eyes drifted down and took in his outfit. A black dress that hung so that it exposed a large portion of his shoulders, the elbow-length sleeves pleasantly tight on his arms. The bottom of it ended above his knees and flared out at his waist. Long, strong legs were clad in dark tights with lighter patches in the shape of leaves that fell down to black combat boots.  _ He's beautiful _ . 

Keiji strode in as Koutarou rose, his palms abruptly sweaty, and he had to bite back the urge to start up some ridiculous chatter. “Hello, Keiji. You look fantastic.” 

“Thank you,” the model murmured with a small nod as he reached out and clasped Koutarou’s hand. “I'm glad I have the chance to work with you.” 

“Me too!” Koutarou chirped, excitement coloring his voice ass they shook hands for a moment. “I think this is going to be great! The themes picked out are really cool!” 

That earned him a tiny smile, just a twitch of his lips, but it made Koutarou’s cheeks heat as he froze up for a moment, totally enraptured by Keiji. A second later he snapped into action with a grin, a little flustered but eager. “Come here, Keiji! Yep, stand right there. Alright, I'm gonna let you do your own poses at first, ‘kay? I wanna see what kind of model you are.” 

Keiji nodded and he glanced at his manager for a moment before he shifted into a pose. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart, cocked a hip, and curled his hands that one as let the other one tease the bottom of the dress. Koutarou actually managed to forget that he was supposed to take pictures for a few seconds before he snapped back and settled into the element. He knew how to see the model through a lens so that he could focus. He knew how to focus solely on the project. 

Koutarou threw himself into it. He filled the room with the click of his camera and the shuffle of feet and the rustle of clothes as he worked his way around the room to capture every good angle he could think of. Keiji shifted poses on his command, his transitions easy and fluid - so much that his movements threatened to drag Koutarou’s attention away. But he kept the lens in place, kept his mind focused - a small miracle in all honesty, especially with such a beautiful man just a few feet away. 

When he was satisfied with the pictures he'd taken, Koutarou motioned that Keiji could move, and his makeup crew swept him away to change outfits. Keiji’s manager peered over his shoulder as he clicked through a few pictures. The man had no concept of personal space, and that made Koutarou twitchy, but he gritted his teeth and allowed the man to look at them for another minute before Koutarou turned. “Let's move to the next room.” 

His assistants had already set it up thankfully, so it was that much less time wasted as he waited on Keiji. The room was more angular, sharp boxes and planes that jutted out and made the gray environment harsh and dark. The lighting was darker, just a little more ominous. 

And then Keiji swept in, and the darkness melted away with his radiance. The flower crown had been replaced by a slender golden band with small laurel leaves beaten out and branching off the band. His eyes had been shadowed with gold, and his black dress had been swapped for one that covered his shoulders, had short ruffled sleeves, and cascaded down to his ankles, higher in the front than it was in the back. The top portion was solid black, but there was a golden sash tied around his hips, right over where the dress shifted into a flurry of autumn leaves, golds and reds and oranges on a backdrop of black. Koutarou couldn’t even find words. He was just glad his mouth hadn’t popped open in shock and speechless wonder. Slate-gray eyes flicked over to him and thin, pale lips quirked up into another tiny smile. 

“K-Keiji.” 

The model stilled, but the rest of the room carried on. His manager was mid-conversation with one of the guards. Shoyo and Tobio were busy chattering with Kenma and Yaku, talking about things that only assistants could. But Keiji had all of his attention on Koutarou, and for a moment he froze, uncertain. It took a few seconds for his brain to jump start again, for his lips to curl around words. “Your smile… it’s very beautiful.” 

Eyebrows arched up, almost like he was surprised. That baffled Koutarou - he was absolutely gorgeous, and his smile was positively  _ divine _ , so how could he have been surprised by a comment on that.  _ Maybe he doesn’t smile often _ . That made something thick and golden bubble in Koutarou’s stomach, and he was breathless. The way Keiji’s smile widened a little more didn’t help at all. It left Koutarou dazed as Keiji shifted into place, but he managed to snap out of it. 

It was infinitely harder to sink back into the zone behind the lens so he could focus solely on the project. On capturing Keiji’s beauty with the way he spun through the light that fell through the windowpanes in all his golden, autumnal glory. On highlighting his dress, his accessories - this time a different set of earrings and a band that wrapped around his arm. Koutarou just praised himself for not getting hard beneath that intense stare and with the way Keiji moved and simply  _ existed. _

But it didn’t stop there. Keiji went through at least a dozen more outfit changes - high-waisted shorts and a creamy white sweater, a dull gold dress dotted with tiny black roses, a beige tank top with a black shawl and tiny shorts among them - before his manager gestured to Koutarou when Keiji departed to change from a sheer white button-up, a deep red cardigan, and tight black jeans. 

“We’re moving outside now.” 

“Alright.” 

He, Kenma, and Yaku hefted up all of the equipment and carted it outside to one of the areas they’d scoped out before - a simple wooden bridge lightly dusted with leaves, but otherwise clear and in good condition. A tiny creek bubbled beneath, and trees trussed in soft fall colors stood tall on every side. Keiji made it out there before they finished setting up, and that only halted Koutarou for a painfully long time. 

It was breathtakingly different from the colors and softness he’d used to light up the desolate, sharp world inside the building. Instead he had donned a slightly loose blue button down with a plain gray scarf around his neck and black jeans - cool and sharp. And Koutarou couldn’t decide which looked better, but either way his mouth was on the verge of being wide-open for at least the seventh time that day. It didn’t get any better when Keiji lounged against the railing of the bridge, or even when he stepped up on top of it, carefully balanced on the wide, flat plank, his arms outstretched like wings. 

_ Breathtaking _ . 

Even more so in the red plaid he changed into next, a simple gray shirt underneath. And then the black long-sleeved turtleneck with a golden compass necklace draped around his neck, a white beanie hiding his hair. Each outfit was flat and sharp, bringing out the sharp angles of his body as he sharply contrasted his surroundings, stark against the backdrop of color. And it drew Koutarou in like nothing else. 

They shot until the sun started to slip beneath the horizon and draped the forest with shadows. The manager called at his men to clean up as Kenma, Yaku, and Koutarou packed the cameras, cards, and other odds and ends away. They hitched everything up onto their shoulders and trooped off to the front of the building where the rest of the people were, gathered around and eager to depart. 

Keiji had been cloistered away inside the little trailer where he’d changed again and again throughout the day, but as the photographers carefully dumped their equipment into Koutarou’s car the trailer door swung open, and Koutarou couldn’t help but pause and look.  Without the makeup, no matter how minimal, Keiji looked completely different, yet he looked just as he had before. Simply a breathtaking man who could easily have brought Koutarou to his knees. But the clothes were the real difference - he looked so at ease in the huge, soft-looking sweater that swallowed him up and leggings that were probably just as soft. And those eyes were on him, sharp and unreadable.

Keiji strode straight over to the group of photographers as his makeup crew looked on, though his manager and the guards were completely oblivious, occupied with God knew what. Yaku smacked Koutarou’s back with a laugh. “We’ll be in the car, Bo. Try not to get too  _ engaged _ .” Koutarou just swallowed hard and tried to say something, but nothing came out. Yaku laughed, and even Kenma managed a tiny smile before they both slid around the car and hopped in. And left him alone with Keiji. 

The model stilled just a step or two away from Koutarou, and his hands, adorably swallowed up by the lengthy sleeves of his sweater, rose, one to scratch at his hair, the other to gesture vaguely, phone in hand. “Thanks for today. It was nice working with you.” 

Koutarou grinned, somehow brave even though his entire body pulsated with excitement and nerves. “No problem, Keiji! I had a blast working with you! It was really interesting, and I definitely got a lot of good pictures. You’re one of the best models I’ve worked with honestly!” “I try not to be a total bitch,” he murmured, and there it was, that tiny little flicker of a smile that made Koutarou’s heart pound. He fumbled for words for a while - a painfully long while - before Keiji swept in to his rescue. 

“I don’t know if my manager will want us to work together again - he’s very picky, but I have faith with your skills. Though… would you like to meet again? Outside of the shoots, I mean.” 

“Yes!” The response was to fast, too eager, but Koutarou couldn’t help it because if he had said it any slower he might have shaken himself to pieces. He beamed at Keiji, who gave him that tiny, mysterious smile, before he held his hand out. For a moment Koutarou was confused, and then he realized that Keiji’s phone was in that hand. He hesitantly took it, brushed his fingers across Keiji’s rough palm, and took the phone. A new contact had already been opened, and Koutarou grinned as he tapped at the phone and added himself and handed it back over with a grin, breathless. 

“Keiji! Are you ready to go?” 

Irritation flashed across the model’s face before he turned and nodded, then twisted back to Koutarou. “I’ll text you later, alright?” 

“Okay!” And all he could do was stand there and wave, an insanely wide smile on his lips as Keiji and the others pulled out of the parking lot and left Koutarou there. He sagged against the car for a moment, abruptly weak in the knees. “Oh my God.”  _ Fucking hell yes! _

“Oi, Koutarou! Get the hell in the car! I want dinner!” 

“Shut up, Yaku,” he laughed, but it was weak, he was so damn  _ breathless _ . And it didn’t help when his phone vibrated in his back pocket.

**Unknown number:** **  
** **I can’t believe you put yourself in as “Hoot Hoot”.**

**Koutarou:** **  
** **i love owls!!! and that was cool! u better leave it!!**

**Keiji♥:** **  
** **That’s not going to happen, Koutarou.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that I have no clue how the fashion industry works. Also, this one was my absolute favorite because imagining Akaashi in these outfits...


	3. Hoot Hoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Internet Famous  
> In which Bokuto and owls go viral

He couldn’t stop watching it. The video had gone viral nearly a week ago, and he had to have watched it at least thirty or more times. Thankfully he’d downloaded it otherwise he would’ve burned a shit ton of data rewatching and rewatching, but Akaashi couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. And it wasn’t even all because of the owls, though those were absolutely precious. What had caught his every time was the man in it, his little antics positively adorable. Enough that Akaashi glanced around furtively before he sagged back a little into his seat, started the video, and sipped on his smoothie as he ignored the crowd in the café. The sound was clear in his ears, the crackle of leaves, the whisper of wind, and two voices. 

_ “Kuroo, Kuroo, are you getting this?”  _

_ “Yeah, Bo, I am.”  _

_ “Sweet!” _

The camera focused on the source of the first voice - a young man crouched on a gravel path beneath a light, his silver hair streaked with black still as upright as always. Gold eyes glittered as he glanced up into the light of the camera before he turned back towards something in the dark and made a quiet sound - a tiny little hoot that made Akaashi’s heart melt. The first time he’d heard it he’d nearly dropped his phone from that stupid, precious little sound and how the man - Bo or whatever the hell his name was - had reached out. 

He hooted again and Akaashi, well-versed in the art of not blushing or grinning or smiling at those cute little sounds anymore, curled his fingers a little tighter. An owl fluttered out of the shadows, it’s white, heart-shaped face turned towards the silver-haired man. It fluttered forward towards his hand and hooted a little louder than the man before it dipped its head. The man’s head snapped to the person who held the phone, a radiant grin on his lips and eyes dancing as he slowly ran his fingers along the owl’s little head. The smile made Akaashi’s heart seize and his breath stutter as he stared at his phone, utterly fixated. The man and the owl hooted back and forth at each other as he ran his fingers through the owl’s feathers, cautious and reverent. 

Abruptly the camera jerked, just as Akaashi knew it would, and abruptly a dozen more owls filled the frame. The man in sight pressed a hand over his mouth as he bounced with excitement, and when his hand fell away to reach out for the owls he looked positively breathless from excitement. 

_ “Shit,” _ he whispered with a quiet, breathless laugh,  _ “My doctor is gonna make me get so many shots.” _ But he didn’t pull his hands away as he stroked their heads and hooted at them. All the while the owls fluffed their wings up, cocked their heads, and let out little cries of their own. Some fluttered away. One nibbled on the man’s shoelaces. And then the video cut away, all too soon for Akaashi’s tastes. 

He sighed as he backed out of the program and sipped on his smoothie again, buoyed from that stupid smile and those stupid hoots. He was obsessed, hopelessly so, particularly since the man was some more-or-less faceless, nameless individual on the internet. All they had to go off of was the original uploader’s blog, but he never posted anything personal details and only answered asks with teasing responses. Akaashi knew that too well - he’d sent a few anonymous questions himself.  _ Ah, whatever. It’s just a cute guy on the internet. Maybe I’ll find someone on campus _ . 

But even though he thought that, thought it constantly, his mind always went back to the beautiful man surrounded by owls with an absolutely breathtaking smile and a sweet laugh. He huffed to himself and chewed harshly on his straw for a minute before he tapped out a message.

**Akaashi: Kenma, I really hate you**

**Kenma: is it because of your little crush? not my problem**

**Akaashi: Asshole**

“Excuse me.” 

“Hm?” 

He glanced up from his phone and he  _ froze _ .  _ No fucking way _ . Silver hair streaked with black that had been spiked up just so until it was reminiscent of an owl. Golden eyes peered down at him, wide and curious, and a shy but bright grin was beneath. One that snatched his breath away as he stared, face hopelessly blank and unsure. The owl-man tugged at his shirt and -  _ Shit _ . Akaashi’s eyes fell to it and fixed on the great horned owl printed on it with a ribbon beneath and  _ “I hoot for owls” _ scrawled above.  _ That’s so fucking cute _ . 

And the thought made him twitch with embarrassment. But not as much as the tiny, all too familiar hoot that came as his eyes snapped up to the sweet face and the radiant smile that only stretched wider. Another hoot, this one a little louder. Akaashi couldn’t make his mouth twitch up, couldn’t change his expression - his face was frozen and all he could do was stare as the man continued to hoot for another minute before he tossed his head back and laughed with a flash of teeth. When that died away his eyes and smile fell back on Akaashi, warm like the sun. “Sorry, I guess that only works on owls, not gorgeous guys. But hey, worth a shot, right?” 

Akaashi nodded, dumb, but that smile only stretched wider, even as it turned shy. 

“Do you… mind if I sit here?” 

He shook his head. Another smile and then the man slid into the chair next to Akaashi. He thrust a hand out. “I’m Koutarou Bokuto!” 

“Keiji Akaashi,” he murmured as he hesitantly reached out and took that hand into his. His palm was warm and rough, and his heart faltered as he reluctantly pulled his hand back. 

The smile lingered for one second, then another, and then his face abruptly fell. “I’m sorry if that made you really uncomfortable, I just really wanted to come over and say something. I knew I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try! I-” 

“It’s okay.” 

Bokuto blinked, a little shocked, and then a tiny smile crept onto his lips once more. “Really?” 

“Yeah… I’m a big fan… owl-man.” Bokuto laughed again, quieter this time, and Akaashi drank it in, drowned in it like the fine wine it was. He couldn’t help but lean over, positively intoxicated and eager for more, desperate to drown in that smile and laugh. Unusually slow.  _ What a pain _ . But he didn’t particularly care. 

“Well, Keiji Akaashi,” Bokuto hummed as he propped his chin on hand and smiled at him, slight and seductive. “How would you feel if I asked you on a date? One that didn’t involve owls unfortunately, but still.” 

“... I’d really like that.” Those golden eyes lit up, radiant and breathtaking, and Akaashi couldn’t help but flash a faint smile as well as he handed his phone over so Bokuto could put his number in. “I’m free all weekend.” 

“Fucking  _ excellent. _ ” 

Bokuto lingered as long as he could before the friend he’d apparently come with - and ditched in favor of Akaashi - had dragged him away with a grin and talk of classes, which Bokuto had only groaned at. He hadn’t even been out the door for five minutes before Akaashi’s phone vibrated.

**Unknown Number: thank u akaashi. i really had fun talking w/ u. cant wait for this weekend**

**Akaashi: Me too**

**Bokuto: (•ө•)♡**

**Akaashi: Dork**

**Bokuto: hey hey hey u got me on that one!!! but im gonna b the coolest dork u ever knew**

**Akaashi: Doubtful**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two parts shame, one part no regret


	4. Magical Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Magic  
> SFW

“ _ Ohmygosh _ , Keiji, Keiji, let’s go see Snow White!”

Keiji snorted to himself, but he trailed after Koutarou, who bounced just ahead with a big grin on his lips, his grip tight on Keiji’s hand. He was more excited than some of the kids who wandered around, but it was positively adorable. The smiles were a nice change after the rough times Koutarou had dragged himself through in the days leading up to their trip too. He couldn’t contain his excitement, and Keiji couldn’t find it in himself to tell him to act a little more mature. After all, that would have been a little hypocritical as well - he was eager, though he was nowhere near as good at showing it as Koutarou was.

They quickly fell into line, a mix of adults and parents. The excitement that bubbled up from Koutarou was anything but out of place, and his grip tightened on Keiji’s hand as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “Gosh Keiji, we’ve seen so many so far! We need to see Gaston and Belle and the Beast next though! They’re just over there!”

“We will, Ko, we will. Be patient.”

“I know, but  _ look _ ! Gaston’s got  _ guns _ .” True, the man who was dressed as Gaston did look built, and the tightness of his shirt and pants only helped that, but Keiji could only roll his eyes.  _ Of course he’d look at that _ . But despite that he knew that the man was no competition for him. The way Koutarou’s arm snuck around his waist as soft kisses peppered his cheek in an endearing, if embarrassing, display of affection only reinforced that. Keiji leaned into his touch as they shuffled forwards a little.

The line was fairly long - then again, they always were, but he didn’t mind. They moved fairly quickly considering, and it was well worth the wait. Especially when he could get to look back at the pictures and see the bright grins that tugged at Koutarou’s sunburned cheeks as he clutched the little signing book they’d purchased. They already had nearly two dozen signatures, from Ariel to Mickey Mouse, from Maleficent to Elsa, not to mention the pictures they’d had taken. All because Koutarou had been dead-set for  _ months _ on doing every character meet-and-greet they could while at Disney. He’d even promised to ride every roller coaster Keiji wanted to ride, and Koutarou  _ hated _ them.

It was all too amusing when he thought about, and Keiji buried his smile in Koutarou’s shoulder as his fiancé flicked through the little book for a moment before he pulled his phone out and scanned through the pictures they’d taken. Thankfully the characters weren’t the ones that dominated his gallery - that would have been sad. No, Koutarou had taken well over a hundred of them, ranging from Keiji trying to drink something  _ in peace _ to selfies of them both, those goofy Mickey Mouse hats on their heads (which he secretly found adorable, and he couldn’t wait to print them off and put them in a scrapbook, no matter how many times Koutarou called him a loser).

The movement of the line shook Keiji from his thoughts - as did Koutarou when he pulled an apple from his bag. “Are you serious?”

The white-haired man flashed him a radiant smile as he bobbed his head. “Hell yes! C’mon, don’t tell me you won’t find it funny!”

Truthfully, the other antics Koutarou had gotten up to with the other characters had been quite amusing and interesting. He’d asked Stitch how his badness level, he’d chatted with Rapunzel about hair products, he’d bowed to the queen and challenged her to a game of croquet, and he’d handed Rafiki a Simba plush, not to mention all the other things he’d done. Keiji couldn’t even heckle him for every new thing he pulled out, seemingly from nowhere. It left Koutarou practically vibrating from happiness, and Keiji wanted to see more of it.  _ And maybe this will wear him out by tonight so he doesn’t talk my ear off all night _ .

It only took a few more minutes for them to be at the front of the line, then to actually approach Snow White. Koutarou presented her with the apple right off the bat, and she clutched at her heart as she backed away, a look of horror on her face. When he put it away the warm smile returned and she gladly pulled them both into a tight high before she scrawled her signature down and let them sidle close for a picture. When they finished Koutarou set the apple down in front of her and darted off, Keiji’s hand in his as he laughed and called back a cheery goodbye. Snow White only responded with a shake of her head as she backed away from the apple as the rest of the line laughed.

He didn’t get much of a chance to focus on them though, not when Koutarou dragged him right over to where Gaston was, near to Belle and the Beast. His line moved a little quicker - it was shorter, and there were fewer gaggles of kids much to Keiji’s relief. Of course, when they reached Gaston all he could do was try to resist burying his face into his hands when Gaston posed for a picture with him.

The man was just barely taller than he was, and he pressed a hand onto the wall over Keiji’s head as he leaned in close, a flirty smirk on his lips. Koutarou pouted in the background for that one, though when Gaston backed away he was more than eager to compare muscles with the man, and to fake fawning over them as they tried to best each other with blatant exaggerations of things they could do. Keiji knew for a fact that there was no way in hell Bokuto could bench over two-hundred kilograms (that had resulted in a befuddled “What is this  _ bench _ you speak of?”). Koutarou had a good laugh over his and Gaston’s antics, and Keiji broke more than a ew smiles, even when Gaston, at what must have been Koutarou’s request, dipped Keiji low, just like Koutarou did sometimes when he was feeling playful.

He was almost sad when they walked away from Gaston, but Koutarou’s bubbliness was infectious, and Keiji smiled to himself as Koutarou dragged him over to Belle and the Beast.  _ I’m glad we came. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend I can title things and wasn't thinking of Yuki Kaji singing that


	5. Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Red String of Fate  
> SFW

There were many times when Keiji had the abrupt re-realization that Koutarou was, and always would be, an idiot, no matter how brilliant he was. Case in point: Koutarou as he rummaged through the apartment, clearly on a mission to find  _ something _ , though he wouldn’t say what. “If you destroy the apartment you’re cleaning it up,” he called, though his eyes never left the pages of his magazine, even when that blissfully obnoxious laughter filled the rooms. 

“I will, I will,” Koutarou sang back. 

_ Why can’t he just stop? He’s so distracting _ . But Keiji didn’t yell at him to just sit down or ask for help. He just flicked through the magazine. Japan’s top volleyball players and the prospects for the summer Olympic team. Familiar faces were in there - he wasn’t surprised to see Oikawa among the profiles listed in there, or Ushijima or Kageyama and Hinata.  _ Koutarou could have done that _ . But Koutarou had decided to not continue after college, though they had gone to plenty of Tetsuro’s matches. 

“Do you think they’ll make it onto the team?” 

“Huh? You mean the Olympic team? Hell yeah! Oikawa’s got a killer serve, and Kageyama and Hinata are unstoppable. I heard Ushijima got hurt though, so he might not make it.” 

“That sucks.” Not that he really cared - he’d never really known or been fond of the man, and Koutarou’s cheery hum made it sound like he didn’t particularly care either. Though, he did have some shred of pity for him - Keiji knew what it felt like to be forced out due to injury. 

“Keiji, babe,” Koutarou called, and Keiji sighed as he turned the page. 

“What?” 

“Where do you keep your sewing stuff?” 

“Far away from you.” Partly because Koutarou had absolutely no idea how to use half of the stuff, partly because he was an absolute  _ disaster _ . The one time Keiji had attempted to teach him had resulted in pulling needles out of various limbs and a fruitless attempt to detangle three spools of string before he had given up and cut the knot away. 

Koutarou whined, but Akaashi ignored it. He reached for his wine glass instead and sipped at it as he flicked the page. A few seconds later warm hands settled on his shoulders and soft lips skimmed his cheek. “ _ Please _ , baby?” Koutarou murmured into his ear as he nuzzled at his ear and temple. “I really need it.” 

“Why the hell do you need it? You can’t sew.” 

“I just need a little bit of string.” 

Keiji sighed and dropped his head back as he tucked his hand, curled the wine glass into his chest. “How important is this to you?” 

“Very…” Koutarou whispered, gold eyes soft with desperation as he brushed the hairs on the nape of Keiji’s neck. The slow stroke made him hum quietly as he nudged his head over until Koutarou pressed their cheeks together. He could feel Koutarou’s smile, and it only stretched wider and wider the longer he lingered there. 

“... Fine. It’s in our bedroom. Bottom drawer of my nightstand.” 

“Okay,” Koutarou sang, and he pressed another big kiss to Keiji’s cheek and tugged gently at the hairs on his neck before he slipped away. Keiji sagged back into the couch with a quiet sigh.  _ Please, please don’t fuck up my things _ . But, thankfully, there weren’t any crashes or curses, so things must have been alright, though he didn’t immediately reappear.  _ I wonder what he needs _ . 

But, with another sip of his wine, he decided he didn’t really care about that so long as everything was in order in the end. He tapped the magazine, this time a spread of one of the new Tokyo teams. Quite a few of their players looked promising - the little blurbs about them boasted strong receives and stronger spikes with two fantastic blockers in the mix as well. And, perhaps most amusingly, they had a Little Giant of their own. 

After Hinata had gone to professionals, then internationals, and had announced that he would be in the Olympic trials after not growing a centimeter, dozens, even hundreds of smaller guys had started to join teams all across the nation. It was quite interesting to see, and Keiji was intrigued to see where it would go. With hope the trend would pan out positively and continue for years and produce dozens of other Little Giants. He was about to flip the page when soft footsteps came back towards him. 

“Keiji,” Koutarou sang, dragged out vowels and all, and it was so endearing that he smiled into his wine glass. “Hold out your hand, babe!” He didn't bother to look back as he raised his hand. Fingers brushed it and then something wrapped around his ring finger. Koutarou’s fingers moved, swift and nimble, and then they were gone with a pleased hum. Whatever he’d wrapped around his finger tugged as Koutarou did  _ something _ , and then the tugging ceased. 

“Okay Keiji, you can look!” He pulled his hand forward and blinked once, twice, as he stared at the two hands in front of his face. His hand and Koutarou’s, a red sewing string tied around their little fingers, Keiji’s right hand and Koutarou’s left hand. “Keiji,” he murmured, “We’re  _ soulmates _ !” 

Keiji sucked down one very,  _ very _ deep breath before he sighed. Koutarou sounded so, so  _ pleased _ that Keiji didn’t really want to deflate him. Mostly because a plunge in his mood would have been a hassle.  _ Still _ . “Koutarou… we’re already married, you idiot.” 

Koutarou threw his head back and laughed - Keiji on the other hand threw his head back and downed the rest of his wine. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he mumbled into the glass as Koutarou giggled and peppered his cheek and neck with kisses, the little touches irresistible, and Keiji dropped his head to the side with a quiet sigh. “I married an idiot…” 

“But I  _ love _ you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Koutarou smiled against his neck as he nipped at his skin. “I’ll get us some more wine.” Koutarou moved - and then their fingers tugged on each other, the string taut between them. Keiji had to bite back another sigh as he shook his head - but there was a smile he swallowed down as well. 

“... We’re still tied together.” 

“Shit, you’re right.” 

And laughter chased them both to the kitchen so Koutarou could cut the string off and pour them some more wine. He complained a little about having to cut the string, but Keiji didn’t listen - it was easy, especially when he reminded that the string didn’t matter because it wasn’t like he’d taken his ring off.


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Graduation  
> SFW

Keiji dragged his nail across his thumb as he bit his lip hard, eyes firmly focused on his hands. He didn’t want to look up and see the crowd - that was the price of being at the beginning of the alphabet. His parents would complain, but he genuinely wasn’t interesting in looking. Not when he wasn’t sure if he would spot that familiar shock of hair out there. They’d texted enough, but Koutarou had never given him a clear answer. Keiji had still set a ticket aside for him anyways. 

Someone beside him bumped, a throat was cleared. Polite applause wrapped up one of what felt like a dozen speeches and another person stepped up to give yet another speech. Keiji glanced up, eyes drawn, almost unbidden, and he scanned the crowd. He found the volleyball team instantly, all-too familiar and easy to pick out in the crowd of underclassmen. Others that he knew as well from school events and various other activities and duties. He found his parents next, their faces bright with pride and excitement as they watched. 

And his breath hitched when his eyes slid to the side. 

That stupid familiar spiked hair, that radiant, broad grin on his lips. Koutarou flashed him a thumbs up as Keiji trembled slightly in his seat.  _ He came. How the fuck did he get here? _ Then again, he had his own car, and he doubted Koutarou’s parents really would have minded, though that didn’t cover the events and practices and workouts that’d he’d apparently had for the last month.  _ I don’t even care. He’s here _ . 

But his expression didn’t betray his excitement or the way his chest tightened as he stared at Bokuto. He wanted to grin, wanted to let his face light up. Fuck, he wanted to leap off the stage and wrestle his way through the crowd so that he could hug Koutarou - and then smack him fucking  _ senseless _ .  _ Fucking four months you son of a bitch _ . But he couldn’t be too bitter, not with the knowledge that his volleyball obligations had kept him busy to say the least, and the few times he had been able to make it into town were the weekends that Keiji had been away. 

Seeing him there carried Keiji through the graduation ceremony as they trudged up, received their diplomas, and then collectively bowed to the audience. They spilled out to mingle with the audience, and Keiji made a beeline for the little trio, for once careless of the people he nudged out of the way in his haste. Three radiant smiles met him as he nudged his way past, and then they were right in front of him, just a step away. Koutarou flung his arms wide - thankfully he managed to not smack anyone - and Keiji went straight for them with a nod between he and his parents. 

Those warm, strong arms wrapped around him and hitched him up off the floor, and Keiji couldn’t find it in himself to make a sound of protest as he wrapped his arms and legs around Koutarou. The world spun around them, so fast that Keiji clamped his eyes shut and buried his face into Koutarou’s neck. Loud laughter bubbled up from his boyfriend as he spun and spun, his excitement so tangible that it bubbled in Keiji’s stomach as well, left him breathless. 

All thoughts of shame or embarrassment were completely gone. He didn’t care who saw, he didn’t care what they thought. He just nestled further into Koutarou’s neck and breathed deep. He smelled like the court, all wood polish and cleaners, and something sweet. Soft lips pressed sweet kisses into his cheek and neck as Koutarou hummed softly and squeezed him tight. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, “I should’ve made sure I could come so you didn’t worry.” 

“It’s okay,” Keiji whispered as he fisted Koutarou’s button up. A shame too since he looked positively ravishing in the black shirt. A gray eye cracked open and Keiji peeked at his parents, who beamed at the two of them and -  _ oh fuck, their cameras are out _ . He instantly reburied his face into Koutarou’s neck with a quiet huff, though his problem with the pictures instantly melted away.  _ Koutarou’s here _ . 

After four months of texts and Skype calls and not getting to touch or be held or be kissed sweetly, Keiji was  _ starved _ for Koutarou, and they all knew it. He wanted Koutarou to tug on his hair with harsh fingers. He wanted their hands to smack together in a high-five he always feigned reluctance over. He wanted those arms to never fall away from him, even though he knew it was inevitable. Koutarou let him down after a moment, and then the hands that had been firmly planted on his back shifted up and cupped his face. Calloused thumbs swept across his cheeks, swept away a dampness he hadn’t expected. 

“It’s okay,” Koutarou whispered, and the soft tones were unexpected, delightfully so. “I’m finally here.” 

“About fucking time,” Keiji rasped. Koutarou just grinned as he pressed their foreheads together, warm breaths ghosting over their lips. “I really missed you.” 

“You should’ve come back sooner. Slipped away for a weekend.” 

“I know…” A soft kiss was pressed to his nose as Bokuto’s fingers curled on his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.” 

He tasted like mint and tea, and Keiji buried his fingers into that crazy spiked hair with a shuddering sigh as he melted against Koutarou with a hum. And, just like that, the last four months of being desperate for Koutarou finally fled him as Koutarou nipped at his lips, as playful as always, and brushed the lingering dampness away with tender touches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't handle colds and that's why this is a day late :')


	7. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Anniversary  
> Child abuse/neglect, homophobia

**Koutarou: hey keiji open your window**

**Koutarou: got a little something for you**

**Koutarou: {^o >o^}**

**Keiji: Koutarou it's one in the morning. Go home and go to sleep you idiot**

**Koutarou: please ;^;**

**Keiji: Fuck give me a minute**

Keiji dropped his phone and pressed his face into his hands with a heavy sigh. He knew Koutarou got a lot of crazy ideas, but this one had to be one of his worst by far.  _ So long as my parents don't hear it should be okay _ . Still, there were curls of anxiety heavy in his belly, even as he pushed his blankets back into place and strode over to the window, lips set in a firm frown. He unlocked the window and slowly, cautiously slid it up and poked his head out. Koutarou stood on the ground below, a big grin on his lips and a bag on his back. A step ladder was on the ground beside him, already opened up and ready to be climbed. “Give me a hand, okay Keiji?” 

The older teen scrambled up the ladder before Keiji could protest, so he reached out and let Koutarou grab his hand, that ever-present grin somehow even broader than before. His feet hit the side of the house with soft thumps that made Keiji freeze, and he nearly dropped Koutarou, who stared up at him, apologetic and just as worried. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered as he pressed his hand on the windowsill and hefted himself up.

It only took a minute to get Koutarou through the window, and his feet touched the floor. Keiji dropped his hand like it had burned him - instantly his stomach twisted with guilt and he folded his arms over his chest, dug his fingernails into his biceps as Koutarou dusted himself up.  _ I shouldn't have let him in _ . But he didn't spit out words to make him leave, just wordlessly crossed back over to his bed and sank down. 

“What do you want?” 

Koutarou toed his shoes off and padded over, and the mattress dipped as he sank down beside Keiji. He shrugged the bag off his back and set it between them. No words. He just waited until Keiji sighed to himself and turned so that they were face-to-face, only the bag between them. “Keiji, it's been six months since we started dating, so I wanted to get you something.” 

Keiji’s mouth moved, opened and closed, and there was a knot heavy in his throat that he couldn't speak around. Six months. Six months of creeping around, of secretive meetings, of guilt. Six months of  _ joy _ . “Koutarou… I'm sorry, I-” 

Warm hands caught his as Koutarou smiled, and Keiji’s heart quickened as Koutarou squeezed his fingers. He knew he was blushing, knew that he should smile - but he couldn't. The nerves were too much and the muscles wouldn't work quite right. “It's okay, Keiji! I know you've got a lot to deal with, so that's why I came. I wouldn't make a big fuss normally, but you're really special to me! And I know you need some reassurance that this - that  _ we're  _ okay.” 

His fingers twitched in Koutarou’s grasp, but he didn't try to pull them away, and he didn't drop his eyes as Koutarou beamed at him, gold eyes bright and determined. “Okay.” 

Koutarou kissed his fingertips before he resettled them in Keiji’s lap and rummaged through his bag. “Here!” A bottle was pressed into his hands - bubble tea - and then a box of Meiji Apollo chocolates.

“Kou-” 

“Not done!” he sang quietly, and Keiji watched as he pulled more out. A book with an owl on the front, exquisitely detailed. A movie followed that, this time an animated owl movie. And Keiji was just at a loss as Koutarou pulled out more - a CD with Keiji’s name scrawled on it in big, loopy letters, a small snowy owl plush, more candy and treats, and a letter with Keiji’s name and a big heart on it. “Don't read the letter until I'm gone, okay,” Koutarou mumbled as he handed it over, cheeks bright red. Keiji just nodded and stared, amazed, at all that Koutarou had brought. His chest was tight, his hands limp, and he couldn't quite breathe right as he peeked up at Koutarou, who watched him with a soft smile that snatched away what little breath he had left. And tears pricked at his eyes as his hands squeezed around the owl plush before he relaxed his grip. 

Keiji pushed everything to the side with one sweep of his hand and he crawled over, closed the distance between them as he pressed Koutarou down until he was on his back. Keiji hovered over him, nervous and a little unsure. He couldn't resist the desperate need to check that the door was locked - it was - before he turned back and focused on Koutarou. His boyfriend wore a silly little grin, and his hands settled on Keiji’s hips as they stared at each other. 

“Thank you,” Keiji rasped, and he bowed in before he could change his mind. Koutarou tasted and smelled like mint, and his hair was soft when Keiji buried his fingers into the silver and black tufts. For once, Keiji took the lead, and he tugged on Koutarou’s hair as he pressed closer and closer into his boyfriend's warm, solid body. He nipped at Koutarou’s lips, and Kou, the ass, smiled and laughed as his hands dragged up across Keiji’s back as he nipped back before he dragged his tongue along Keiji’s lip. The young teen was more than willing to part his lips as he melted into Koutarou with a sigh, his body loose and his chest light. 

_ This is right. I don't care what they say. This is right. We're okay.  _

And he knew that tears had leaked out, had started to drip onto Koutarou’s cheeks, but he didn't give a damn. He just clung tighter as he let Koutarou lick and bite his way through his mouth, his hands firm and his chest solid. When they pulled apart, cheeks painted red and and chests heaving, Koutarou grinned up at him, his cheeks damp from Keiji’s tears. Keiji sniffed as warm, calloused fingers settled on his face and swept the tears away with tender strokes until his cheeks and eyes were dry. Koutarou’s smile was sugar sweet, and it left Keiji’s limbs weak. He did the only thing he could do - he sank back down and pressed his face into the crook of Koutarou’s neck. The rise and fall of his chest was even, smooth, and soft breaths tickled the hairs around his ear. 

“Keiji?” 

“Yeah?” 

Koutarou’s fingers twitched into motion and traced down his back in random, erratic patterns, the paths slow and light. Unrushed unlike so many other things had been in the last six months. “I love you.” 

Keiji -  _ everything _ froze and his fingers tightened on Koutarou, brutally hard. Love. When was the last time he’d heard that?  _ Years. It’s been years _ . He almost couldn’t even remember. And when strong arms wrapped around him, caged him in, it was even harder to remember. He trembled within Koutarou’s embrace, the tremors violent as fresh tears burned at his eyes, dripped down into the bedsheets.

“Sssh, it’s alright Kei… I’m right here. I’m right by your side. I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright.” 

He wanted to scream because  _ no _ , it  _ wasn’t _ , but he bit his lip and dragged in a shaky breath instead. He couldn’t sob - didn’t dare risk being loud enough to wake his parents up, didn’t dare to let himself come undone even more than he already had. And Koutarou seemed to understand that because he held Keiji close and tight as he stroked his hair and took those slow, steady breaths. “I’m right here, Keiji. I love you. I love you so, so much. You’re my world, and that’s not going to change. Promise. I’m gonna stay by your side as much as I can. It’s okay. I promise, it’ll all be okay.” 

And, with those soothing touches and those soft words, it wasn’t as hard to find some measure of calm in it all. Keiji sniffed and wiped his face, but he didn’t pull it out of the little hollow.  _ I probably look like shit _ . Carefully he slid off Koutarou’s chest and settled on the side so he could curl against him. It only took a moment for Koutarou to copy the move and settle on his side as well. Keiji tucked his face beneath Koutarou’s chin and an arm settled over his side as Koutarou hummed. 

“You okay now?” 

“Yeah… Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for crying, Keiji. You so rarely let things out… I really worry, y’know? And I’m glad you cried in front of me, because it means you trust me!” 

“How could I not?” The words were whispered, secretive, and the fingers on his back twitched as a soft laugh reached his ears. 

“That’s something only you can answer.” 

Keiji hummed as he nestled closer with another tiny sniff. Neither of them spoke. They just pressed close, Keiji’s fingers half-curled on Koutarou’s chest, Koutarou’s hand splayed across his back. Gray eyes fluttered shut and, piece by piece, the anxiety chipped away until he was loose again, free inside the cage of Koutarou’s arms.  _ It’s so warm in his arms. It’s safe _ . And he never wanted to leave that hold. But at four in the morning Koutarou gently shook Keiji awake with an apologetic smile. “Keiji, I have to go home.” 

He groaned, but he managed to stir and slide out of bed. Together they tiptoed over to the window and Koutarou shoved his shoes back on before he turned to Keiji. His gold eyes raked over Keiji for a moment before he smiled and touched his cheek. “Text me, okay? I’m right beside you.” 

“I know.” A chaste kiss to his lips, and then Koutarou was gone, out the window, down the ladder, and into the night. Keiji stayed by the window for nearly ten minutes, even though the air was chilly, before he shut and locked it and went back to his bed. He carefully, quietly scooped up all that Koutarou had brought over and buried the things in one of his drawers. His parents rarely bothered to go through his room - too much effort, not enough reasons to disappoint. Still, he was cautious. Though he did still on the letter for a few seconds before he carefully opened the envelope and pulled on the paper inside. And he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading this! A comment would be greatly appreciated for this very exhausted bean {^o>o^}

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day/night/existence!  
> Check out my blogs on tumblr for more: fairylights101 (personal) and fairylights101writes


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